Monday, June 22, 2009

Connection, Part One

So yesterday, Chris and I were at Save-On Foods, completing the mundane task of buying groceries for the week. Both of us were in good moods--talking, laughing, and teasing each other. If anyone had been able to listen to us continuously, they would have thought we were part of a TV sit-com. The zingers flew back and forth--nothing hurtful or cruel, mind you--and both of us were completely in sync with each other. It felt great to be alive and to be me.

At one point, as I was pushing the buggy around the end of a shelving unit, Chris behind me looking at something on a shelf, I felt an overwhelming sense of complete and utter joy; of deep-seated satisfaction and oneness with the wonderful man in my life and with the universe, really; of total well-being within the context of my life.

I get this sometimes--not all the time--and the only way to describe it is that I receive a flash of awareness of everything I have, and I know, so much more than I usually do, how fortunate I am--and how grateful for all that I have been given. I mean, just think about it: I have my life, my health, my relationship with the love of my life; all of my daily needs are not only met but far exceeded; and I have the potential and the possibilities of the future. How can I not feel fortunate and grateful?

It's at moments like these when I'm reminded I could be in such a different "place" (there's that word again, Wendy) in my life, where I might not have everything I do now, or where some or all of it could be taken away from me. What if, for example, Chris were in a fatal car accident, and he were no longer a part of my life?

Not a pleasant thought, and one I know I shouldn't dwell on. But it's times like these when our awareness of what we have becomes so much more acute, and when we find ourselves saying as heart-felt a thank-you to our Creator as we are able, in our inadequate way, to utter. It's easy to say thank-you for what we have as we lay in bed at night and wait for sleep to overcome us; however, it's a completely different thing when we realize, fully awake and conscious, what our lives would be like without someone we hold most dear. That's when we say the thank-you we really mean.

Thank you, God, for Chris and the relationship we share. I can't imagine how different my life would be--how less worth living?--if Chris were not a part of it. Please keep us safe, please help us to grow stronger, and please keep us together for many years to come.

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